Were
by Eternal Density
Summary: Mini-Jack aka Mini-me aka Jack's clone discovers that Thor could not repair all the damage Loki did to his DNA, when he undergoes a hideous transformation. Set after Fragile Balance. Not connected to any of my other fics.
1. Transformed

_Late Saturday morning, a couple of weeks after Fragile Balance…_

"Wha- eep!" Jack O'Neill was barely accustomed to waking in a smaller body. Waking up in pain did not help in the least. This morning, unexplained aches had visited much of his body. Worried as to the extent of the problem, he ran a hand over his scalp and face to check for damage. The skin felt unbroken, but something felt wrong - more wrong than 'normal'. Perhaps he had been badly beaten.

Pushing back the covers in an attempt to vacate his bed, the teenaged clone first noticed his legs. He wasn't sure what was wrong, as there were no obvious injuries, but they did not appear to be correct. But his attention was snatched away as he began to sit up. Something was on his chest. "Ew, there's…" A fit of coughing distracted him from the strange growths. Whatever had happened to him, it had affected his voice as well.

After silently cursing Loki for messing up his DNA, the young O'Neill decided he had to call in help from the SGC. Whether he was mutating or being taken over by alien organisms, he would probably be dead or worse without advanced medical intervention. Unfortunately, he didn't have a phone in his room. "Here goes," he squeaked as he awkwardly stood and walked for the door. Movement was slow, as something had messed with his balance and his limbs didn't respond as he remembered.

Finally, he reached the phone. Even better, he had avoided seeing himself in any mirrors. He wasn't ready to face the extent of the damage, and if it could be repaired he'd rather not have a first-hand memory of the grotesque mutations that had deformed him. "This is Bart calling Springfield," he growled once the operator answered. His voice was tripping all over the place, sounding anything but normal.

"Um, security code?" the operator requested.

"Delta alpha seven kree," he replied as evenly as possible.

"Please hold while I connect you," the operator replied dutifully.

The afflicted teen waited until he heard a familiar voice, a voice which had once been his own. "O'Neill."

"Hi Jack, it's Jon."

"Jon? As in Mini-me?"

"Yeah."

"You don't sound like…"

"I'm sick, Jack! Why do you think I'm calling you!" Jon rasped.

Jack ignored the jibe. "Sick?"

"Yeah, I have weird aches – actually they're kinda fading now – and my body's all wrong."

"Wrong?"

"My face feels different, I can't walk straight, and there's big tumours or something growing out of my chest. I don't know if it's leftover damage Thor couldn't fix, or if some kind of alien has decided to take up residence!"

"Since it's not April First or my birthday, I'll send you a medical team, in full hazmat gear. Frasier and Carter should be able to figure your problem out. And I'll try to raise Thor too," Jack replied, surprisingly helpfully.

"Thanks. I guess I'll wait here and try not to fall to pieces."

"Good plan, kid."

"Hey!" But Jack had already hung up.

-

_About half an hour later…_

Finding the front door of Jon's apartment unlocked, Sam proceeded inside with utmost caution. "Jon?"

"In here," an unfamiliar voice called from the bedroom.

Sam steadily walked toward the source of the voice. Arriving at the door to what she assumed was Jon's room, she peeked inside. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was Jon's room," she told the stranger inside.

"Huh? It is!" the unknown teen protested.

"I…" Sam was rather surprised to hear that. "I didn't realise he had a girlfriend."

"What in Netu are you talking about, Carter?" the girl demanded angrily.

Sam gasped, and began giggling uncontrollably.

"Sam? What's going on?" Janet asked, having figured it was safe to follow. "Who's the girl?"

Jon looked back and forth between Carter and Frasier as their words began to sink in. "Oh for crying out loud!" she exclaimed.


	2. Transported

Disclaimer: I know nothing of the procedures for dealing with hazardous materials.

-

Sam's fit of laughter slowly subsided, helped along by repeated glares from the unexpected teenage girl. Even so, she and Janet had a very difficult time keeping straight face and occasionally lapsed into giggles.

"Would you two stop that?" Jon demanded in her new voice. "Get over it, and find a way to fix me!"

Sam automatically responded to the voice of command. "Sorry Sir,... uh, Jon... no... what should we call you?"

"Oi, just because this has happened to me," - here she gestured at her chest - "it doesn't make me a different person. I'm still Jon, short for Jonathan O'Neill 2.0."

"You don't particularly look like a Jonathan," Janet interjected. "Jonita?"

"I _dare _you to repeat that, Doc," Jon challenged, her awkwardness with her new voice failing to sound menacing. To back up her words she moved into a combat stance and promptly tripped over her own feet.

"I think you just made our point for us. How about Joanne?"

Fortunately Jon's impolite reply was muffled by carpet.

"What about Jo?" Janet suggested a little more compassionately.

"Fine. If you must," the newly named Jo answered in a resigned voice. "But only until you fix me."

"Of course. We'd better take you back to the SGC infirmary."

"Can we take off the HAZMAT gear, Janet?" Sam asked.

Janet quickly shook her head. "No, and we need Jo in full gear too. I have no way of determining whether this condition is limited to Jo's physiology, or whether it's caused by a retrovirus, nanite, or other potentially infectious agent. I'm sure you'll both agree that we don't want this to spread. If it is infectious, I'll need to determine whether it is airborne, requires casual contact for transfer, or if it is only transmitted se..."

"Hey! You were about to make a terrible pun, weren't you?" Jo protested.

Janet looked extremely guilty.

"Huh?" Sam didn't get it, until Janet whispered something in her hear. "_Whaaat_? That's just... wrong! Janet, I really did _not _need that mental image!"

Janet shrugged unapologetically. "Don't blame me for your imagination, Sam. Jo, get yourself suited up, so we can get back to the infirmary. The major requires a large prescription of industrial strength brain bleach."

"Right," Jo agreed. "But remember that _I'm_ the patient here."

_One HAZMAT suit and chemical spray later..._

"I wonder what the general will think of this," Janet wondered aloud as their vehicle drew close to the mountain.

"I'm sure General Hammond will cope," was Sam's opinion. "I'm more interested in Colonel O'Neill's reaction."

"I already spoke to him," Jo reminded from the back seat.

"Yes, but he just thinks you're sick," Sam pointed out. "He doesn't know you're... female."

"Oh. Right. Hmm..." Jo turned ominously silent.

"Given the prank Jo is evidently planning, perhaps we should hold off on letting Jo and the colonel meet," Janet wisely suggested after they had passed the outer security measures.

"That'll just give her more time for scheming," Sam countered.

"Hey, I'm right here!" Jo protested.

Janet ignored the interruption and continued, "Perhaps we should warn him."

"Or make sure he never finds out. For security reasons, very few people know that Jon survived. In the interests of security we might be able to find due cause not to inform the colonel about Jo."

"Hey! You're ruining all my fun!"

"We know," Sam and Janet answered together.

"Oh. Oh! You're just messing with me, aren't you?" Jo realised.

"Yep," Sam replied teasingly.

"You know, _technically_, I'm your superior officer..." the teen warned.

"_Officially_, you're dead, and _physically_, you're someone who didn't even exist yesterday," Sam responded quickly.

"And _medically_, you're about to be my test subject, so I recommend you be on your best behaviour," Janet added in a voice that was more in good humour that threatening, but not by much.

"Alright, I'll be good. But if you and Thor can't fix this, all bets are off."

"I bet there's going to be a lot of betting, if anyone finds out," Sam muttered as Janet parked the vehicle.

"Hey, I heard that, Carter!"


	3. Transience

_A few minutes and two elevator rides later…_

"Ow!" Jo exclaimed hoarsely as she stumbled yet again. Walking in an unexpectedly modified body took a lot of practice, and the occasional flashes of pain didn't help.

"Are you alright, Jo?" Janet immediately asked as she helped the faulty clone to her feet.

"I've been better," Jo replied huskily. "I think I'll… stop talking for a while."

"That would be a wise choice," Janet agreed. "If only the Colonel…"

"Janet, you shouldn't talk about Colonel O'Neill like that," Sam chided.

Janet looked around guiltily, half expecting the Colonel to appear from some doorway. Fortunately he didn't.

"Whoa," Jo muttered as she unsteadily stepped into the infirmary. "I'm feeling… loopy." She did indeed sound rather drowsy. As Sam and Janet moved to steady her, she transitioned into unconsciousness and slumped bonelessly in their grasp. In seconds, she was placed on a gurney and appropriate monitoring devices were attached.

"Blood pressure and heartbeat are a little high… no, they're dropping back to acceptable levels," Janet read. "Breathing is normal for a sleep-state. She's in no immediate danger so I'll take a blood sample and begin diagnosis. She prepared a needle and drew a sufficient sample.

"Yow!" Jo gasped, suddenly wakening. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes," Janet replied simply. "Try to relax."

"I should get back to my lab," Sam stated. "Call me if you learn anything, or if … something happens."

"I'll do that, Sam," Janet promised.

-

_Half an hour later…_

Jo lay as still as possible, as her nerves were still acting up. The pains had mostly stopped, but she still felt incredibly uncomfortable. She had avoided speaking any further, as her vocal cords still seemed wrong. There was nothing to do but consider how weird this was and hope that Thor would show up soon to make it all better.

"Jo." Janet had returned and sought her attention. "I have some preliminary results."

"Hmm?"

"I still don't know what's happened to you, but I've been able to determine that it's not anything communicable. You can take off your protective suit now."

"Great," Jo muttered.

"Why so glum, that sounds like great news," said an especially unwanted but not entirely unexpected voice.

"Colonel O'Neill, what brings you to my infirmary?" Janet asked sternly.

"I've come to check on Mini-Me, of course. What's the prognosis, Doc? Is he fixable?"

Jo let out a groan of annoyance.

"Colonel, my patient's condition is somewhat… private," Janet argued.

Beneath the mask and red hood, Jo's eyes rolled.

"You heard the Doc, kid, off with the HAZMAT. Don't let me stop you," Jack urged.

Jo sighed in resignation and pulled off the head-covering part of her protective gear.

Jack blinked. "That's new. Care to explain how you got your hair so long, Mister?"


	4. Translocation

"That's new. Care to explain how you got your hair so long, Mister?"

Jon looked perplexed. "Uh…" Curious, he slowly moved a hand to his chest. "Huh," he noted.

"What's going on?" asked the uninformed Colonel.

Jon grinned. "I'm cured." As he said it he realised the 'problem' with his voice was that it was back to normal.

"Cured of what?" Jack pressed.

Jon glared at his original. "None of your business. I'm fine, so you can get back to doing _your_ job." Obviously the recently-minted teen was still struggling to accept that he had been kicked out of what he remembered as his duty – saving the world.

"You may be yourself again, but I still need to give you a full physical to determine what happened, why it happened, how to prevent it from happening again, and whether there is any lasting damage," Janet explained.

"Himself again? Who was he?" Jack questioned.

"Colonel, if you'll give us some privacy, I can begin the examination. Unless you want one yourself…" the CMO threatened.

"Fine," Jack conceded a little sulkily. "I'll go see what Carter's doing."

Janet waited until he was out of earshot and announced, "I'd better fill Sam in before the Colonel reaches her. Back in a moment."

Jon nodded. "You do that."

-

_A few minutes later…_

"Carter, what's going on?"

"I'm plotting the decay curve of the…"

"Carter."

"Sir?"

"You know what I mean."

"If you say so, Sir."

"Carter!"

"It's not up to me to tell you, Sir. He doesn't want you to know yet, and you don't need to know."

"I'll need to know how to deal with it if it happens again, Major."

"There's no danger, Sir. Apart from his embarrassment."

"Does Janet know that for certain?"

"Sir, wait until she's fully examined him. If she decides you need to know, she'll tell you. For now, there's nothing to worry about."

"Doesn't stop me from worrying," Jack grumbled as he left.

-

_Later, in the infirmary…_

Janet shook her head. "I can't find anything wrong with you, Jon. Not a scratch, apart from the one on your arm." She said the last phrase with a hint of questioning.

"Neighbour's cat," Jon briefly explained.

"In your initial blood work, your hormone levels were slightly wrong, consistent with your recent transformation, but they've dropped back to normal levels for your gender and apparent age. There's no sign of a probably cause."

"Am I good to go, Doc? Or do I have to wait for Thor to scan me too?"

For now, I'm releasing you, but I want you to call if anything else unusual occurs, and I will call you back in once Thor shows."

John sat up on the side of his bed and began tapping his foot. "I just hope he can be convinced not to beam me out of school. That would be awkward to explain," he understated.

"Quite. You're free to go now, but remember to call as soon as…"

"Got it, Doc. Uh… how do I get back home?"


	5. Transposition

Note: Here's a much longer chapter!

-

Three days later, Jon felt he had put the incident behind him. His primary tactic was throwing himself into his school-work, and the far more difficult task of integrating himself into the high school socially. Fortunately he wasn't especially bothered by the transformation. Having recently awoken as a teenager instead of an adult meant he was already practised at coping with not being himself. The female body was not a novelty to him – at least not in his memories. It would have been far more concerning if he'd been stuck that way for a protracted period of time, but he hadn't allowed himself to consider that problem. Such thoughts required a few beers.

Given the lack of phone-calls from the SGC, Janet had not discovered anything new, and Jack had not discovered anything. He had coped alright with Janet and Carter's teasing, but getting it from himself too would be intolerable. While he knew what he was like and could dish it out just as well as the Original, the whole clone situation was a psychological and emotional mess that he really didn't want to deal with on top of the gender-bender issue. And... and he should be checking he had all the right things from his locker. Thinking could wait until the walk home.

"Jon?" A friendly female voice plucked him out of the spiralling vortex of thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, hi Lisa." John could hardly get over the fact that fate had given him a schoolmate and neighbour named 'Lisa'. There was no one named 'Bart' or 'Marge' though. Jon was considering acquiring a dog and naming it Homer, but that would be a choice he made once he was more settled.

"What's up? You've been staring at your locker door for maybe a minute," the short blonde girl told him.

"Oh. Just... thinking."

"You do that too much," she chided.

"Really? What do you plan to do about it?" he asked with a grin.

"I plan to harness your extra thoughts by asking you to help me with geometry and chemistry again this afternoon." Lisa struggled a little at those subjects. She wasn't awful, but she was definitely more artistically inclined, resulting in a need for tutoring in those subjects. Last week she had approached Jon for help, having noticed that he found the work relatively easy and observed that he had plenty of spare time.

"Sounds like a good plan," Jon agreed.

"How about you pop over at around seven?"

"Sure, but, uh, that's a lot more evening than it is afternoon," Jon corrected.

Lisa just shrugged. "I'll see you later. I've got to grab Clarissa before she leaves." She was gone before Jon could wonder whether he wanted an explanation.

-

_Later..._

Jon almost rang his neighbour's doorbell, but remembered that it was broken before wasting his time. Instead, he knocked on the sturdy wooden door and called, "Lisa? It's me, Jon."

"Hold your horses," Lisa called back. Her footsteps approached and moments later Jon heard the deadbolt being drawn. "Come on in."

"I'm afraid I've only got books to hold, no horses," Jon bemoaned, causing Lisa to laugh at his act.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Lisa asked after Jon had placed his things down on the coffee table.

"Nah, I'm good. Where are your parents?" he wondered.

"Out. Company dinner," Lisa answered lightly.

"Oh. Um. They know I'm here?"

Lisa shook her head. "Nope," she told him with mischief in her eyes.

"Lisa!"

Lisa giggled and pointed at the wall clock. "I told them you would be here at seven. That's not for another minute. You're early."

"Oh. Ha ha," Jon replied humourlessly.

Lisa responded with a smirk. "Gotcha! And now that I've thoroughly fooled you, let's study."

"Yeah, we'd better do that. The sooner you're not thinking about pulling pranks on me, the better."

-

_Just a little later..._

"Ready for question twelve?" Jon asked, taking a sip of strawberry flavoured milk.

"Uh, true, Lisa replied.

"It's not a true or false question."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I mean I'm ready."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Fine. Given a hypotenuse of twent... ahh!" He had been struck by a blur of grey fur, and had upset his pink drink.

"Bad Mister Fed!" Lisa told the newly arrived feline. "That drink is for Jon, not you!"

Mister Fed hissed possessively and began licking up the spillage. "Stop that!" Jon protested as he tried to wave the cat away. He received a scratch on the hand for his efforts.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Lisa declared, picking up the unruly pet. "I'll shut him in the laundry and get you cleaned up right away."

"Uh, I'm fine to rinse myself off in the bathroom," Jon answered, looking dolefully at his now pink and white shirt.

"Yeah, there's some spare wash-cloths under the bathroom sink. And I'll get you one of my blouses to change into," Lisa teased.

"Er, I'll pass on that. I'm fine to get home in a wet T-shirt, really."

Lisa laughed and left the room with the squirming Mister Fed. "I'll clean up the mess while you wash up," she called over her shoulder. "Did any get on our books?"

"Nah, just my shirt and the floor. Good thing you don't have carpet in the living room," Jon called back. He carefully stood, avoiding the stray strawberry splashes and trying not to drip any further fruity froth. Halfway to the bathroom, he sneezed violently.

"That sounded bad. Are you sure you don't need to put something warm and dry on? I could lend you a coat," Lisa offered from the laundry.

"I'll think about it." Jon entered the bathroom, locked it, and removed his shirt. The laundry would have been better for rinsing in, but it lacked a mirror and was colder. Setting the shirt aside, he located a clean wash-cloth and removed all traces of his sticky drink from his chest. As he was finishing, he sneezed again and noticed his eyes were turning red and his skin had begun itching. The area around the scratch was the worst. "Hey Lisa, I think I might be allergic to your crazy cat," he called.

"What's that?" Lisa yelled back.

"Your fool cat! I think I must be allergic to the animal! I'm itching all over and my face is puffing up," he explained as he starting rinsing his shirt clean.

"Did that happen before?" Lisa asked with concern.

Jon thought back to his previous visit. "I left right after I got scratched last time, and I fell asleep pretty quickly."

"Yeah, we were up quite late working out those chemistry problems. Did you notice anything the next morning?"

"Uh..." It was starting to become difficult to think, as a steadily increasing pain had crept in alongside a drowsy feeling. "No, the only thing that happened that morning was..." Jon caught himself before he revealed extremely classified and embarrassing information. He looked back into the mirror and detachedly noticed that his chest was beginning to swell. A sudden flash of inspiration was accompanied by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Oh." He opened his mouth again to continue, but the only adequate expletives were not fit for Lisa's young ears.

"What's up?"

Jon frantically assessed the situation and muttered Goa'uld curses to himself. He most certainly had experienced a significant reaction to the cat, but he hadn't seen any connection until now. Recognising the situation for what it was, and now knowing what was about to happen, he knew he had to get away from Lisa as soon as possible.

"Jon? Are you okay in there?"

It was a slight struggle to get the words out clearly. "Er, yeah, I've got some medication at home. I'll have to cut our study session short, sorry." He slipped his damp but clean T-shirt back on to cover his changing body and rechecked his face in the mirror. He still looked enough like a swollen version of himself to avoid raising unwanted and dangerous questions. Satisfied that he wasn't going to completely freak out his friend, he left the safety of the bathroom and ventured into the living room.

"Omigodyoulookterrible!" Lisa gushed. "Can you breathe okay?"

Jon nodded. "Throat's alright." He knew that his voice would get around to changing, but he hoped it wouldn't be too soon. "I'd better go." He reached for his school-books.

Lisa deftly swept the books into her arms. "I'll take these. I'm walking you home. Can't let you out like that alone. You look ready to fall asleep. Or worse."

Jon held out his hands to receive back his books. "I'll be fine. I'm not even crossing the road for crying out loud."

"Nope, you're stuck with me. If my mom found out that I left you alone as sick as you are, I'd never hear the end of it! Come on, let's get you to your medication." Even as she spoke, Lisa found her keys and cellphone, and scribbled a note explaining where she would be.

"But... it might be contagious," Jon protested unwisely, running short on ideas.

"A contagious allergy? Even I know there's no such thing!" Taking Jon's books, Lisa departed through the front door, leaving him no choice but to follow.


End file.
